


To Hell and Back

by NeuroWriter14



Series: Beware The Greeks [2]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Do not repost, Eventual Happy Ending, I'm just gonna fight that relationship tag up there, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Wife of Orpheus, ambiguous magic, don't mind me, fuck off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Hannibal dies after falling off the cliff and Will is overcome with grief. But grief is a funny thing. It sings and it calls to other things, things that allow Will one last chance to have what he loves. Will he take it, or will he lose Hannibal forever?
Relationships: Eurydice wife of Orpheus/Orpheus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Beware The Greeks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131521
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	To Hell and Back

The ocean was cold when they landed, crashing through the surface. Will felt like he had just collided with a brick wall, his whole body smashing against the surface of the water and then sinking below the waves. The air that had been in his lungs was stolen from his chest on impact and his body reacted automatically, inhaling cold, salty water as a result. He was dizzy with the impact, everything around him dark and his eyes stinging from the salt. His arms and legs shifted this way and that as he tried to find any sense of direction before he realized something just as terrifying. 

His arms were empty. 

Will forced his hair back under the water, holding what little breath he still had as he looked for Hannibal. The other had been in his arms in the fall, but the impact of the ocean must have broken his grip on Hannibal. He could have sworn that just before the impact, Hannibal's grip became a little tighter, holding onto Will just a little harder before the ocean claimed them both. Will's heart hammered in his chest, partially from pain and partially from panic. His shoulder stung where the salt contacted the open wound, and his cheek burned even worse, the water entering his mouth unbidden as he maneuvered through it, looking for Hannibal in the dark depths. His vision began to darken around the edges, and his heart sped with increased panic at the lack of oxygen. His lungs were burning and empty, and every innate part of him wanted him to suck in a breath, even though logically he knew there was no air for him to breathe.

But he kept searching until his vision was nearly completely dark and he could feel the water pressing in on his lungs. 

Reluctantly, he moved toward the surface, seeing the moon above him and knowing that all he had to do was push a little more, and he could have air. And then he could search more. He had to find Hannibal. He had to. Will kicked upward, spots entering his vision. He was going to die. 

He was going to die in this godforsaken ocean due to his own actions. And he probably killed Hannibal along with him. 

There was some degree of comfort in that. Living would only mean something if he lived with Hannibal at his side. After everything, after BSHCI and the honey trap and Florence and Muskrat farm. After Hannibal's turn in BSHCI and their three-year separation. After killing the dragon, and that final step in not only Will's Becoming, but their Becoming together; he couldn't bear to live in a world without Hannibal in it. 

He would live with Hannibal. Or he would die with him. 

There were no other options. Not for Will. 

He burst through the surface of the water, his whole body burning from lack of oxygen and his wounds singing with pain. The inhale he took was more of a gasp, panicked and deep, as he flailed to keep himself above water for a moment. His vision cleared slowly, the white spots vanishing and the darkness receding to the edges. He sucked in another breath before his eyes darted around him. 

Maybe Hannibal had made it to the surface too. 

He was injured, so it would certainly hurt, but it was possible. He would need Will's help moving to the shore, not far from where Will had popped up on the surface.

Will twisted and turned in the water, his body shifting easily since he wasn't bearing most of his own weight. There was an upside to having landed in the ocean. 

"Hannibal!" He called, eyes darting over the shining water. The ocean looked nearly the same color his own blood had in the moonlight. 

How ironic that they landed in an ocean of blood. 

"Hannibal!" 

There was no response, nothing except the sound of the waves moving around him. He could almost swear he could hear the warbling of the stars with how silent the world was around him. 

"Hannibal!" 

He was panicking again. Hannibal was nowhere in sight. 

"HANNIBAL!" 

Will twirled in the water, looking this way and that as he tried to stay afloat, looking for the other. 

He looked back down at the water for a moment, his mind telling him that he needed to dive into the water for the other. But an even darker part of his mind said that Hannibal couldn't have survived so long underwater. He pushed that part away and readied himself taking a deep breath. But just as he popped up higher, ready to angle himself down into the water again, the waves shifted just slightly and Will caught sight of another body floating on the water's surface. 

He was certain he tore something in his injured shoulder as he swam closer, powering through the water faster than ever had in his life. 

It was Hannibal, he could see him clearly as he neared, floating on his back with his eyes closed. Will couldn't tell if his chest was moving or not in the swaying of the ocean, but he didn't have time to worry about that just yet. He couldn't do anything in the water. 

Land. 

He needed to move them to land. He wrapped his injured arm around Hannibal's waist, dragging the other's limp body through the water with him as he swam toward the shore. His body ached with exertion and the remains of oxygen deprivation, his head thrumming and heart pounding. His shoulder screamed with pain and his leg burned and ached. His cheek wasn't much better especially as Will gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving toward the shore that was slowly approaching. 

_Just a little more._ He told himself. They would be there soon. 

As they neared the shore, it was easier to use his legs, stepping on the sand that gently sloped upward toward the water's edge. The last bit was the worst, as the ocean clung to them and Will dragged not only his own weight but Hannibal's limp body out of the grips of the ocean. He managed eventually, hauling them both out of the water that still lapped at their feet. Will coughed, some final bits of water leaving his lungs as he oriented himself on the shore. 

It took every remaining ounce of his energy to shift himself sideways, moving to Hannibal's side. Hannibal, who had not moved an inch since Will's arm wrapped around him and eventually deposited him on the shore. The other was virtually in the exact same position, on his back with his eyes closed. Will could make out the barest hint of a satisfied smile on his face. He forced his legs under him as he sat up next to Hannibal, his hand pressing forward against the other's jugular. 

Nothing. 

No pulse reached up to meet his fingertips. He pressed harder, hoping that maybe he hadn't just pressed hard enough to feel his heartbeat. Still nothing. 

Will's heart began to speed in his chest, a brand new type of panic leaping up into his aching throat. He quickly shifted himself, so he could begin compressions, his hands lacing to push down on Hannibal's chest. Internally, he counted, each number followed by his body shifting his weight forward and down over Hannibal's heart. 

_Onetwothreefour..._

It was years ago that he was trained in CPR, and he never expected that he would have to use it. Ultimately it would be useless, some part of him said. Without a defibrillator, there was nothing to kickstart Hannibal's heart. He was forcing a dead heart to beat without starting the electrical signaling that the heart relied on. But again, he shoved the dark thoughts aside, focusing instead on every press of his hands. After a moment, he reached, tilting Hannibal's head back and holding his nose. He really hadn't expected that this would be how their lips first met, as Will tried to force air back into the lungs of the one person who he should hate the most, but didn't. He couldn't evaluate what exactly he felt for Hannibal at the moment. He needed Hannibal alive for that. 

He resumed compressions, his whole body jerking into the movement, pressing over and over against Hannibal's chest. 

_Live._ He thought. _Live Hannibal. Please._

He didn't know how long he was there, didn't know how many times he stopped compressions to try to breathe air back into Hannibal's lungs or pressed against his neck to feel for a pulse he knew wasn't coming. He didn't know how many times he pressed on that unmoving chest until his aching shoulder screamed with overuse and his body was shaking with adrenaline and pain. 

"Come on," He muttered aloud, pressing more and more against the other's chest. "Come on. You can't do this, Hannibal." He continued to press over and over, even as his movements slowed with tired, overworked muscles. "You have to live Hannibal. It doesn't end like this." 

_Onetwothreefour..._

"Live, Hannibal." He demanded, tears starting to pool at the corner of his eyes. He couldn't do this. What was the point without Hannibal? Who was he without Hannibal Lecter? His own heart squeezed in his chest, his throat tightening. "Hannibal," He tried again. "Please." 

Nothing. Not even an inhale. 

Will's compressions were pathetic now, not enough to keep a heart going or even start it again. 

"Please," He whispered, his throat so tight he could barely force the words out. 

His hands fell flat on the other's chest, no longer pressing. 

He leaned forward, cupping the other's still face in his hands. "Hannibal. Please. Don't leave me." 

That was when the tears he had been trying to hold back, finally fell. His whole body was shaking as he lowered his face, pressing his forehead against Hannibal's, still gripping the other. One of his hands moved further down Hannibal's body, pulling the other closer as his own body shook with sobs he couldn't control. Everything came crashing in at once, not dissimilar from the crash into the ocean however long before.

Will screamed.

Then, he pressed Hannibal's body closer and closer, letting the other's head pillow against his arm. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry. Hannibal, please." His body was rocking of its own accord. "I'm so sorry."

Will was clinging to him and some part of him knew that Hannibal would never be able to cling back. Part of him was resigned to stay there, to die right alongside Hannibal. 

_Will._

Will's body was so wracked with sobs and his heart pounding deafeningly in his ears, that he barely heard the whisper the first time. 

_Will._

When he heard it the second time, he looked up, still clinging to Hannibal, and the world around him blurred by salty tears. 

_Will._

The third time sent Will's heart into a frenzied spiral. The voice was Hannibal's. 

His eyes immediately dropped to Hannibal half in his lap, stray tears falling on the other's cheeks. But Hannibal was still and silent, as he had been since Will pulled him from the ocean. 

_Will._

He was delirious, he decided. Hearing voices that weren't there. Maybe he was bleeding out from his wounds and would ultimately have his wish. He would die, right there, clutching Hannibal as his life faded away. 

_Will._

"Hannibal," His own broken voice called back, his grip on the other's body tightening. 

_Will._ Hannibal's voice said again. Will, frustrated, wiped at the tears that were still in his eyes, blinking to focus more on the world around him. He stayed kneeling on the shore with Hannibal's body in his arms as he looked at the world around him, wondering where that voice was calling to him from. 

He didn't have to wonder for long. In the cliffside directly in front of him, a dark hole had opened, staring at him from the rock face. He could swear he was seeing things until he heard Hannibal's voice call to him once again from the opening that led into the dark. Will hesitated for a moment, not willing to leave the other's body on the beach without him. And then Hannibal called again and Will so desperately wanted to go.

Hannibal had called to him before in Palermo, leaving a body for Will to find. He had called again in Florence and like a siren's call, Will was completely helpless to follow it. And he called again when he was in BSHCI. It took all of Will's strength to stay away, but even at night, he could hear Hannibal's call in his dreams. And even still, he gave in. Returning to Hannibal once more over and over again. Even when he lied, making it seem like he wouldn't return. Hannibal knew he would, and Will knew he would too. He would now too. 

_Will._

"Hannibal," He whispered. "I'm coming." 

Will stood, but as he did, he felt a strange, cold wind wash over him. It made him shiver and his arms automatically wrapped around his body, trying to hold in his own heat. Except as he moved, he realized something wasn't quite right. His shoulder and cheek weren't aching, his leg wasn't throbbing. As he looked down to examine himself, he noticed he was oddly translucent, the edges of his hands and feet shimmering as he looked them over. He turned, finding his own body at his feet, draped over Hannibal's. 

He was dead. 

He was certain he was dead. 

Until he noticed that his own body was moving. He was breathing. 

_Will._

Hannibal's voice drew his attention once again, back toward the opening in the cliffside. He sucked in a breath, not that it would do him much good, and started forward. As he reached the entrance to whatever unknown darkness awaited him, he turned back once more, looking at his own body slumped over Hannibal's and then back into the darkness where he knew Hannibal's voice called to him. 

After another breath, he went. 

The darkness was consuming and any light that was behind him vanished immediately, the moment he stepped inside completely. There was nothing around him, save for that cold wind that he had felt on the beach that now seemed to be pushing him. For a moment, he hesitated, and then he heard Hannibal's voice once more, calling him from somewhere inside the darkness. He pressed forward, letting the wind direct him to the source of Hannibal's voice, which he dearly hoped was Hannibal himself. 

The somewhat reprieve he received in all of this was that he no longer had the exhaustion of his body. It almost felt like he slept peacefully and woke with energy the next morning. It was a feeling he was unaccustomed to. He kept moving forward, feeling like he was moving at a decline, but he couldn't quite tell. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, other than that cold wind and the call of Hannibal's voice. He spent what felt like an eternity going down. 

Down.

Down.

Down. 

Until he reached another opening.

This one, though, was far less welcoming than the darkness had been. 

He exited out the side of another cliff face and into a world that looked like it was perpetually drenched in blood. He couldn't see whatever was above him, if it was sky or something else, only that it was dark and unforgiving. Around him, he could see endless fields, all bathed in a crimson light from what looked like a sun constantly about to set, but nowhere near as welcoming. He could hear water rushing somewhere to his right like the sound of a river or several. The fields in front of him were filled with people, most of whom were milling around without any real purpose or intent. They wandered and wandered, or just stood and stared from what Will could tell. There was no dull roar of conversation, no cheers or laughs, no scattered noises. It was eerily silent. 

In the far distance was another field, far more active than most, and Will could barely make out a man pushing a boulder up a steep hill. He would never be able to keep it at the top, Will realized, watching as the man reached the crest of the hill and huffed — or what looked like a huff at such a large distance — before the rock began to teeter and roll back down the hill with the man slowly following it, resigned to roll it back up once more. There were some other things he could make out, a man stuck under a tree that he could never reach, and some women by one of the rivers he heard, constantly filling bowls with water, only for the water to leak out the bottom. 

Will shivered, looking over the sight in front of him once again. 

But that cold wind never stopped, he realized, still pushing him. He followed it, hearing a loud banging as he did and the ground under him rumbled. 

The wind, he realized, was pushing him toward the last place on his left that he had yet to look at. A massive, dark castle. He neared it reluctantly, still hearing the sound of Hannibal calling to him as he did, and coming from the castle itself. 

As he neared, details about the castle became more evident. It was surrounded by a massive stone wall that looked chilling in and of itself, except that it was covered in vines with flowers of all kinds sprouting from them. He could see lilies and poppies and the false foxglove, a purple flower native to Louisiana. As he approached the massive, metal gate, it suddenly swung open, revealing the entrance to the palace that now loomed over him. Strangely, it reminded him a bit of Lecter Castle as he looked up at it, moving inside the gate that was open to him this time. Inside, jewels of all kinds were embedded into the walls and the path, shining in the low light. As he continued toward the entrance, he could see a garden off to one side, with a pomegranate tree growing out of the wall.

Will swallowed, feeling oddly daunted by the sight before him. Still, he followed the wind which now pushed him through the opening door to the castle. 

He was met with another translucent being. The other didn't speak and as Will watched, their form shimmered slightly faces shifting. He truly couldn't tell the gender of the being before him, though part of him supposed it didn't matter. They were dead, and likely so was he. Nevertheless, the other nodded to him slightly, gesturing for him to follow before moving through the dark castle. Similar to the outside, the stone walls glittered as he passed. He supposed if he were someone else, he might find himself wanting to take some of the jewels that he saw. They would certainly be worth something. 

But Will wasn't that person. 

And it wasn't that type of treasure he was here for.

His guide stopped right outside another open door, which seemed to lead into a massive room on the other side. Will paused, hesitating slightly. 

Something he could only describe as powerful was on the other side of the doorway, and he found himself wondering if he truly wanted to face it. Not that Will had ever truly shied away from intense experiences. He often found himself in them. But this felt different. 

Otherworldly. 

"Will Graham," A voice boomed and Will's throat tightened. "Enter." 

Steeling himself, he did just that stepping through the threshold and into the massive room on the other side. 

It was a throne room it turned out, and two figures were waiting for him on his left as he entered. 

Strangely, the person he was met with was Jack Crawford and his late wife, Bella. Both were sitting on identical thrones and dressed in outfits that Will could only describe as regal. He felt strangely underdressed and incredibly scrutinized, despite the familiarity of the faces that he was greeted with. He could see a crown on Jack's head, dark and shimmer with faces appearing in it, increasing number the more he stared. For a moment, he could swear he saw his father's face in the crown, but then it shifted again and it was someone else's. Next to him, Bella also wore a similar dark crown, except hers had flowers woven around it. 

"Jack?" He felt himself asking, even though he knew it was impossible. 

"No child," Bella answered. Will shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He barely knew Bella Crawford, and had really only attended her funeral for Jack, but it felt as though she knew him. "People see who and what they want to see. For you, it's your friend Jack and his wife, Bella." 

"Though I do not disagree," Not Jack said, continuing where his wife left off. "She is quite beautiful. Bella. My Bella." For a moment, the two of them turned to each other, smiling softly, before both seemed to remember that Will was there and turned back to him. "Why are you here?" 

Will's mouth opened and then closed and then opened once more. "I don't quite know." 

"Lies!" Jack's voice boomed, though now his booming voice shook the whole room. "If you cannot be truthful with yourself, then you shouldn't have come." 

Next to him, not Bella clicked her tongue and immediately he softened as he looked over Will. 

"My wife has a soft spot for you, so I will give you a chance to tell me again. And tell me truthfully. Why are you here?" 

Will's heart, if he even still had done, jumped in his chest. "Hannibal," He whispered. 

"Speak up," Not Jack demanded. 

"Hannibal," He said again, louder. "I came for Hannibal. I heard him calling."

Not Jack hummed. "You come for him. Yet you are the reason he is dead." Will immediately opened his mouth to protest but was cut off. "You did not kill him? Did you not throw him and yourself over a cliff and into the ocean? Did you not do so after killing another and leaving their body? Did he survive the fall, the fall that you initiated and he didn't protest? Tell me, why did he not protest? Why did he submit to your will?"

Will shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't what he was expecting at all. And quite frankly, he didn't know exactly how to handle it. It was hard enough to handle a world that constantly pressed inward on his psyche, a world that only became more bearable in Hannibal's presence. It was even more difficult now to handle the scrutinizing gaze of something out of his world and wearing the face of someone he knew. He felt similar to how he did before he ever met Hannibal. It wasn't hard for him to speak his mind, but it was certainly easier after Hannibal had traipsed around in it, overturning tables and redecorating until the darker parts of Will began to shine through. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to talk to whatever was in front of him as he would Jack. It did little to ease his mind, but it did make the words out of his mouth easier.

"He's in love with me," Will said. 

"You knew this, and you killed him anyway," Not Jack said. It wasn't said with judgment or nonchalance. It was said with the cold simplicity of someone stating a fact. 

"It wasn't exactly like that." 

"Then explain what it 'was like.'" Not Jack demanded. 

For a moment, he wished Hannibal were there. Nothing he said would fully articulate what he meant. But Hannibal would know. Strangely, Hannibal always knew. And he always knew Hannibal. 

"Ah," Not Jack said at his silence. "I see." He tapped his fingers on the edge of his throne for a moment. "'Adapt. Evolve. Become.'" He quoted a conversation that Will and Hannibal had what felt like a lifetime ago. "Very well then." The other eyed him closely. "You said you heard Hannibal calling, why did you come for him? Certainly, you must see this as a fool's errand, yet you came anyway, following a whisper of a voice and a cold wind. And do not try lying, we've established that will get you nowhere." 

Will sighed. The emotions he hadn't wanted to face earlier came roaring back, clogging up his throat and squeezing his heart once more. It was the same reason he had lost it on the beach as he clung to Hannibal's body. It was the reason he fished him out of the ocean, resigned to either live or die as he did. It was the answer to the question Bedelia asked him after confirming Hannibal's love for him. It was the same thing he had pushed aside for years, shoved down alongside his darkness. 

_Do you ache for him?_

Will looked elsewhere for a moment, unable to meet the eyes of anyone as he wrestled within himself.

He should hate Hannibal. But he found he never truly did. Not then, and not now.

Truthfully, he never despised Hannibal for the things he did and much like Chiyoh, he accepted them. It was Hannibal's betrayal that had sent Will down the path of revenge. His entering into Will's mind and toying with it, making him lose his sense of self until the darkness he tried to keep down, though failed at, finally crept to the surface. Will had betrayed Hannibal in return, which ultimately led to the real death of Abigail. And yet Will wanted to go with Hannibal anyway. Even after everything. And he had gone to him, he sailed across the ocean to the other side of the planet for Hannibal. He had followed him to the doors of his mind palace and then further into its dark depths. And yet, he couldn't help but find that again, he had been led astray by Hannibal. Meeting Chiyoh, another project of Hannibal's who was abandoned, made his own connection with Hannibal feel weak and one-sided. Even as Hannibal continued to call to him from Florence, even as he found himself utterly entranced by finding Hannibal once more, he couldn't forget the fact that he had been nothing but a toy in Hannibal's mind, used and discarded when he was done with him. It was why Will had pulled out the knife in Florence. He was certain Hannibal would kill him, not that he truly made an attempt against Hannibal, it was more a suicide attempt than it was an attempt on Hannibal's life. 

Hannibal had delayed his attempt on Will, first cleaning and bandaging his wound, and then seemingly waiting for Jack to arrive. And even still, he worked slowly until Jack was more awake and finally Mason's hired police arrived. He couldn't forget the look in Hannibal's eye after they arrived at Muskrat Farm and Will tore a chunk out of Cordell's face. It had been incredibly satisfying, but Hannibal's adoring reaction was even more so. And when Hannibal had the chance to leave him, to let him die, he didn't. Instead, he killed the majority of the occupants of Muskrat Farm and took Will for himself. Any number of things could have happened there, yet Hannibal merely took him home and tucked him into bed. And Will sent him away. Hannibal could have run, but he didn't. Instead, he stayed right where Will could always find him. And he did. 

He lied when he said what he had at Hannibal's cell. It was mostly for the cameras. 

He could never truly escape Bedelia's confirmation of Hannibal's love for him and by proxy, his own love of Hannibal. He would have found a way to free him and it was incredibly lucky that Dolarhyde fell into his lap. He made a deal with the Dragon for Hannibal's life, and then made a deal with Jack for the same thing. Neither had what they wanted. 

But Will didn't either. 

"Because," He said slowly, still not looking at the pair in front of him. "I love him too." 

When he looked up, he noted that not Bella was smiling at him softly before turning to her husband. He turned to look back at her and Will watched a silent exchange pass between them. 

"No," Not Jack said suddenly in a huff. 

"Dear," Not Bella's voice was stern yet loving. It was clear to Will that she would win whatever small argument they were having, even though not Jack had yet to give in. 

"You can't possibly-" He began but was immediately cut off. 

"I do and you will." She answered. 

With a sigh and another adoring look, Will could tell the conversation was over. 

"Very well," Not Jack turned back to him. "You may return, and assuming you do so correctly, your Hannibal will return with you." Will's heart stopped in his chest. "There is, however, a rule." The other continued, ignoring Will's reaction. "You will return the way you came, but along your way, you must not turn back, not once."

"How will I-" Will began, only to find himself cut off. 

"Assuming you return to your realm without looking back, you will find that Hannibal had returned with you." Not Jack studied him for a moment. "This is your only chance. Should you fail, you won't receive another." 

Will nodded. He knew this myth. Or well, knew of it. He supposed if and when he returned with Hannibal in tow, he could ask the other about it. It seemed like something Hannibal would know in depth. 

He nodded his thanks, seeing his dismissal clear on the faces of those in front of him. 

He wouldn't admit later that he left the palace much quicker than he entered it. He didn't see much of Lecter castle when he was there, mostly just the small part of it that Chiyoh lived in and the dungeon where presumably his firefly still lived, but as he looked at the grounds he was exiting, he could swear it was still the same castle grounds he explored previously, save for the absence of one particular headstone. 

Outside the gates, though, he slowed considerably. He knew the deal he had made, he knew he couldn't look back. But part of him was still severely distrusting, and it was hard to picture that the silence behind him had Hannibal. Especially given how often Hannibal was prone to filling silences himself. The walk back down from the castle was slow as Will made certain he wouldn't trip. If this was real, and Hannibal was truly behind him, any fall could have him looking behind him on accident and Hannibal would be lost forever. 

He still wasn't certain it was real. He was most likely dead himself and this was his dying brain's strange hallucination. Though he didn't know why exactly this would be the hallucination he would have. Hannibal was the one who had more of an opinion on gods and stories, more so than Will. He certainly believed in something strange with the afterlife, he had spent some time in his childhood in New Orleans. The city was filled to the brim with shops of all kinds, several that catered to the more magical aspects of life. Will had only ever been in one, but he still wasn't certain what he saw inside. 

He followed the path he came, seeing his own footsteps there to greet him. It was strange enough that he should have footsteps when he didn't really have a body, yet there were there. And he could swear they vanished when he stepped over them. But he didn't dare look back to see if they were truly gone. 

The banging he heard before continued, the walls near him shaking. He heard the rivers he had previously, seeing the opening he had come from. It was also in a cliff face, like the one where he had been with Hannibal. 

Hannibal, who was supposedly behind him and so incredibly quiet. 

He wondered if talking in the afterlife was possible. He had noted when he first arrived that no one seemed to truly be talking, even the being the greeted him at the castle had been silent. It was all silent and endless. An endless nothingness. Was that what death was? Or was death those few who found themselves undergoing impossible tasks, for ends they would never reach? Was that what was waiting for him? Waiting for Hannibal? After all they had done, the lives they had taken and sent, likely to this very place, after Hannibal had seen himself akin to a god and then defied him, what was waiting for them when they were well and truly dead? If they weren't already. Was this Will's punishment? To constantly return for Hannibal and yet never have him? Always tempted to look over his shoulder because he was worried that Hannibal wasn't truly there, and wasn't all right if he was. Would he forever be doomed to keep facing forward, never seeing Hannibal again but having to trust that he was there? 

Will paused for a brief moment just in front of the cliffside, inhaling slightly. He hoped, strangely, that it was real. And that Hannibal was behind him. 

In the distance, he could swear he heard the roar of a dragon. 

With another breath, he stepped into the darkness in front of him. 

The way down had been slow and never-ending. The way up was worse. The decline Will felt previously was now an incline and steadily increasing. At first, Will didn't feel the normal effects of constantly walking uphill. He didn't feel the normal burn in his calves or his lungs working harder and harder to draw in air as he pushed uphill. He continued through the darkness, presumably with Hannibal at his back. 

But that was the worst part. 

Hannibal was supposed to be there. But was he? Will wanted to know. He wanted to see him. He wanted Hannibal. 

He did ache for him. And he had for a while. He had gone three years, burying that ache deep within him alongside the darkness that he worked to cage once more. He had tried to cage it alongside Hannibal, sealing it behind hard-wrought chains until it couldn't escape. Yet it did escape, gloriously, alongside Hannibal. 

Will trudged upward, forcing himself not to look back. He couldn't look back. He would lose Hannibal forever if he looked back. 

He supposed that was the downside of love, part of the reason he had always kept others at bay if he could. Love required trust, and Will barely trusted anyone. He barely trusted himself. Hannibal had been the first person since his father to truly gain his trust, and yet Hannibal had pulled the rug out from under him. Yet he still found himself trusting Hannibal. And this was just one other test of that. He supposed Hannibal would say something along the lines that loving someone is trusting them to be there, even in the silence. Part of him wanted to start arguing with Hannibal right there. 

But he couldn't. 

So he continued upward.

He thought about the hours between arriving at the cliff house and the Dragon's arrival. It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had probably only been a few hours. He thought about the easy silence between him and Hannibal. He thought about how relaxing it had been to finally shed the last few layers of his mask, and to just be as he was around someone who never wanted him to be anything else. Hannibal hadn't asked for anything more, even in the small conversation they'd had before night fell. Instead, they just existed in that strange place in between together. Will almost wished he could return, but he couldn't deny what came after. 

He couldn't deny that satisfaction at killing the Dragon, at killing alongside Hannibal. He couldn't deny the wild rush in his veins at seeing Hannibal stalking behind Dolarhyde and the part of him that sung at their combined kill. 

_It's beautiful._

And it was. He understood so clearly what Hannibal wanted at that moment because Will wanted it too. 

Eventually, Will's walk uphill began to become more difficult. It almost felt as though he had muscles once more. His lungs began to burn from inhaling, his heart pounding as he continued the upward hike toward where he left his and Hannibal's bodies. He continued, pressing forward even when the terrain became worse. Nothing like the easy downward incline he had when entering what he presumed was the Underworld. 

Rocks began to shift under his feet, flying this way and that. He had the strange feeling that he was walking up a narrow pass in utter darkness and that one fall would send him tumbling into that darkness forever. Or worse, it would send Hannibal tumbling and he would be gone. 

Will wanted to look. He wanted to make certain that when the rocks fell, it was from the ones he knocked over and that it wasn't Hannibal falling. If he was feeling the weight of his own earthly injures again — including pain in his shoulder and cheek and the thrumming in his leg — then so was Hannibal who had been shot in the abdomen, tossed around, and then dragged into the ocean. 

Will pressed forward, though he began to slow. 

This was torture. 

Complete and utter torture. 

He couldn't do it. 

He just couldn't. 

He wasn't certain at what point he stopped walking completely, but he did know that he was very suddenly on his knees, staring down at what should have been the path back toward their bodies. Had he been right? Was this his punishment? Was this Hannibal's? Will, who would always have to keep trusting that Hannibal was there, and Hannibal, who could say nothing to confirm or deny anything, doomed to watch Will constantly walk away in hope that he was there. 

If he was even there. 

Will was shaking again, phantom sobs wracking his body. 

But it wasn't his body. His body was still elsewhere, bent over Hannibal's. 

He had to keep moving. 

Hannibal had to be behind him. Right?

Will pushed himself upward, forcing himself to continue. 

He had gone after Hannibal because he loved him. If he loved him, he would continue. He had to continue. They would live. Will couldn't handle it if Hannibal didn't. 

Forward, one step after another. Slowly. 

His body ached, he could feel the wounds acutely now. He was close, so close. He had to be. Hannibal had to live. 

Just when Will's hope was failing again, he saw the other opening. 

And sunlight. 

The morning sun. 

If he wasn't injured, he would have run for it. As it was, every step hurt. He supposed it was partially owed to the fact that he had fallen into the ocean too. Shockingly he was in pain from that brilliant idea. But Hannibal would see it for what it was. He would see every underlying piece of symbolism that even Will's own brain had yet to decipher in his actions. Will pressed forward. Forward. 

Forward. 

Forward.

Just a little more. 

The sun had barely started rising, Will could tell. He knew exactly how the morning sun looked over the water. He had seen it enough, even crossing the ocean that he had thrown them into, to know what it looked like. He knew, somehow, that he had to return to his body before he could look at Hannibal. And he would do just that. 

He would have Hannibal once more. 

He could see their bodies, exactly where he left them. Will's body was still bent over Hannibal's their foreheads touching. He could see his own breath and Hannibal's stillness. Over however many hours they had been there, Hannibal's face had gone paler. Will dearly hoped there was no permanent damage done. But he would have Hannibal in any form. Just as long as he had Hannibal. 

He forced the last few steps, closing his eyes as he did. It was utterly a leap of faith. And Will was quite good at leaps at this point. 

He sucked in a breath, feeling the cool morning air burn through his abused lungs. His body ached from stiffness and the various injuries he endured. His hands were stiff where they clung to Hannibal's body. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. Hannibal hadn't moved. And Will was all but certain he was in his own body. What would happen if he looked now? Would he find Hannibal, staring at him from the edge only to be pulled back into the darkness once more? Would he find anything at all? Had it all been a hallucination? Wishful thinking that he could have Hannibal back? 

"Hannibal," His tired, cracked voice said quietly. "Please." 

A heartbeat passed. Then two. 

"Will."

* * *

**One Year Later**

Will stretched as the morning sun entered through the window. Their bedroom faced east and while most mornings, the curtains were drawn to darken the room, they were already opened this morning. Hannibal returned to the bed as Will rubbed at his eyes, blinking into the bright light that greeted him. Every time the sun rose over the ocean, Will felt his heart settle in his chest. The night was difficult and dark, even after the last year. Though most of Will's hatred of the night was countered by Hannibal's constant presence at his side, and his heartbeat under Will's ear. 

Will blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light as Hannibal's weight shifted the bed next to him. 

"Morning," He muttered, stretching again and hearing a satisfied hum next to him. 

"Good morning." 

As Will began to wake up more, his sense began to detect things other than the morning sun, including the smell of breakfast that was wafting toward him. Will blinked rapidly before turning toward Hannibal next to him. The other had a tray resting on the bed and the sheets drawn up to cover his legs. Not that he had anything to hide from Will. Neither did at this point. Most of the time they slept naked after several pairs of pajamas had been destroyed unceremoniously. The Cuban air was forgiving enough that it didn't matter and even if it did sometimes become cool, Will was a heater enough for both of them. 

Hannibal reached out, brushing his fingers over the thin scar on Will's cheek. Will leaned into his hand, his eyes fluttering shut for a second at the contact. 

It had been a year, and still, he hadn't had enough of Hannibal. And Hannibal never seemed to be satisfied with what he had of Will. 

Will lifted himself up, excusing himself for a moment while Hannibal readied the bed for them to properly eat breakfast. 

It was a rare occurrence that they ate breakfast in bed. In fact, he was certain the last time it happened was when they were on the boat, and neither was quite well enough to sit in uncomfortable chairs and eat. Will did his normal morning routine, including splashing some water on his face to fully wake himself up, before he returned to the bed, feeling slightly more awake. Hannibal greeted him with one of the cups of coffee, indulging Will's morning caffeine habit happily. Though it was because of Hannibal that his breakfast was now more than just a cup of coffee. 

He wasn't at all surprised that the breakfast Hannibal had made them was a protein scramble. The pig that provided their sausage had been slaughtered only the night before. But Hannibal was quite happy to prepare the sausage ahead of time. Will thanked him quietly, somehow still slightly shy after everything they had been through. 

"I had the strangest dream," Hannibal said quietly when they were well into their breakfast. 

"Oh?" Will asked around a bite of sausage. 

"I dreamt I was in the Underworld and you bargained for my life." Will's lips twitched slightly. He had told Hannibal almost everything, except that. He didn't quite know how to explain it and part of him still didn't know if it was real. "I imagine it must have been difficult, not looking back." 

"You have no idea." 

Hannibal smiled slightly. "Finish your breakfast." 

Will chuckled but obeyed. 

Once he was done, he set what was left of his coffee aside. Hannibal clearly knew what he was after, as he set the tray down next to the bed and his coffee on the table. He barely had time to turn back before Will was on him. 

Will didn't bother holding back anymore. Hannibal had once told him that he should be intimate with his instincts. Often though, when that didn't mean a kill, his instincts drove him and Hannibal together. Hannibal gathered Will in his lap easily, draping the blanket over Will's back as he leaned backward, propped up by the pillows. 

Their lips met, gently. At first, it had been more frantic between them, needy and demanding. Sometimes it still was. But now they had allowed for gentle and passionate. 

Will's mouth opened at Hannibal's probing tongue, allowing him to explore what was already familiar territory. Not that Will minded. He quite enjoyed the taste of Hannibal, as he knew Hannibal enjoyed it in return. Hannibal's hands were slowly stroking up and down his back while Will's fingers twined in the other's hair. He sighed contently against familiar lips as one of Hannibal's moved upward, tangling in his curls. 

They moved slowly, neither in a rush. He explored Hannibal's body, feeling familiar scars and even some new ones. Though those were on accident from nights when Will lost control. Not that Hannibal hadn't done the same. There was one week where Will couldn't lean back in a chair without a stinging pain in his back. But he didn't mind. 

He sucked Hannibal's lower lip between his teeth, feeling the other hum happily in his grasp. 

Sometimes, Will still saw flashes of his experience, could still hear the rivers rushing and churning, could still see the endless nothingness that pervaded every inch of the afterlife with a few exceptions. But all of that was quickly driven away by both the monster and the man that was Hannibal. It was the man who greeted him now, who kissed him so gently that Will felt it down into his toes. 

He pressed himself closer, letting his chest rest against Hannibal's. The other held him closer. 

Will could feel the other's hardening length between his legs and his own cock twitched with interest. This wouldn't be fast, this morning. Not given what the day was. 

Essentially, it was their anniversary, and Hannibal would cherish the whole day. 

Rough was for later. 

Hannibal tug the lube out from between the pillows where they discarded it the night before, neither truly caring about putting it back when they knew they would use it again. He helped the other slick up his fingers though their mouths never left the other's. 

Hannibal's fingers slipped inside his entrance easily and Will groaned into the other's mouth. It was so familiar to him now, just as Hannibal's body was so incredibly familiar to him. He shifted himself, rocking on Hannibal's fingers slightly as the other probed and stretched. Hannibal's other hand tightened in his hair. Will reached for the lube again, pouring some on his hand and moving to Hannibal's cock. The other bucked slightly into his grip as Will spread the lube over his cock. 

Will wrapped his hand around them both after a moment, enjoying the friction between the two of them shifting together. 

When Hannibal deemed him ready, they shifted again. Will lifted himself, the two of them lining Hannibal up in tandem before he sank down. Both moaned as Hannibal was buried in Will until the other's hips were flush against him. Hannibal's arms wrapped completely around him, pressing them close together. Will looped his arms under Hannibal's, his hands resting on each of Hannibal's shoulders. He turned slightly to rest his head on the other's shoulder, his face pressed against Hannibal's neck as they began to move in tandem. 

With the angle he was at already, Hannibal's cock brushed his prostate over and over. Will's thighs flexed as he moved, never going far, but enough that it was quite satisfying when he dropped. Hannibal's hips rocked up to meet him, every movement sending waves of pleasure through his body. It felt like it went into the very ends of his hair and the echoing moans from Hannibal told him the other felt it as well. 

"Will," The other said quietly, forcing him from where he buried himself in Hannibal's neck. He hummed slightly. "Look at me." 

He did so, quite happily. Now that he could. 

Hannibal cupped his face between his hands, his amber eyes watching Will intently. Will in return grasped at one of Hannibal's wrists, holding him in place while the other hand dropped over the other's chest, feeling his heartbeat under his hand. 

Will lunged then, as he felt Hannibal's heard thudding under his palm. Their lips met harsher this time. Hannibal's arms wrapped around him, holding him in the kiss as he thrust upward, harder. 

He groaned, rocking back against the other. 

Together, they drove each other to their edge, bodies meeting over and over in a way so familiar yet so exhilarating that Will never thought he'd tire of it. He moaned with every thrust, his arm moving to drape over both of Hannibal's shoulders, pressing their bodies closer. 

"Hannibal," Will whispered against the other's lips, nearing his edge. 

"Will," Hannibal whispered back. 

Another series of thrust and Will was gasping. He came, spilling onto Hannibal's stomach, his body tightening around Hannibal's cock. The other thrust twice more and then found his own release, pressing Will closer as he did. 

Will shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm, his body pressed close to Hannibal. 

After their orgasms subsided, and Hannibal's softening length slipped from Will's body, the two of them rolled into their sides, still tangled together. Hannibal's hand absentmindedly stroked over his curls while one of Will's hands found the scar on Hannibal's abdomen, pressing against it softly. 

"What are you thinking about?" Hannibal asked softly. 

"You," Will said, leaning forward to press his forehead against Hannibal's. "I love you, Hannibal." 

He could see Hannibal smile slightly as he tucked Will against him more. 

"I love you too, Will." 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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